


A Bet

by Emriel



Series: Taken [26]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Bullying, Drabble, Fluff and Crack, Gaslighting, M/M, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emriel/pseuds/Emriel
Summary: Harry finds himself in a world where magic does not exist and everything he knows, he questions every day.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Taken [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/965817
Comments: 13
Kudos: 118





	A Bet

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. Just a lighthearted kind of dark story with questionable ethics.

Low hanging sea-shell curtains against a patchwork wooden fortress was the only entrance to our resident green eyed boy’s sanctuary.

Inside, Harry sat pensieve, wiping his brow that was riddled with sweat. He sat upon a futon that was threadbare, and his little hands reached out for a jug of water, drinking from it, filling his parched throat.

The seven year old bit his nails as he took his binoculars, looked outside it, spying citizens of Britain and glowered at stars.  
  
He was atop a tree, looking down at the city filled with bright lights, and beside him a notebook and a pen.

_Day 7_

_No sign of magic, and no sign of recognition from father or mother._

In all his travels, Harry had never thought he would come upon a time where he’d land in an instance of the world where he had no access to his magic.

Waking up as a seven year old and realizing that none of his life had been real and was merely “reimagined”, he made the mistake of telling his friends and his parents of what happened.

And soon, he found himself sent to a mental ward, where he was questioned by a team of doctors who could not ascertain what was wrong with him.

He could not control himself, out of panic, so he blurted out secrets that would and should have gotten the ministry of magic in a frenzy. He expected the obliviators descending upon unknowing muggle doctors with wands ablazed.

But none of that happened.

So Harry pretended that perhaps he simply hit his head, and that whatever came out of his mind was pure madness of the moment. Lily Potter and James Potter decided that it was the stress of not being able to be given his birthday gift that got him into such a state.

Days ago, they told him that he was desperately wishing for a treehouse, and thus overnight, the plan to build him a treehouse was realized. Some part of his wishful mind provided him of the memory, that he did in fact desperately wish for a treehouse, and there he was plotting his next course of action.

Little Harry then bit his lips angrily, since he was sure no one would dream of a world where he defeated Voldemort and live to have children of his own… but the exact details of how and why it happened seemed quite murky to his mind.

He sighed, and told himself that he was not sick, and that he was simply under a spell of sorts, that there was a way to solve his apparent lack of magic…

He hid the notebook and pen underneath a wooden box and turned off the battery powered lamp he brought with him. Then he hunkered down the rubber ladder they nailed to the tree.

Harry sighed as he jumped from the last step and brushed his knee of the dust. He shivered a little when he felt the breeze settling around him, cold.

Freezing, after a moment.

He ran towards the two-story house and prepared for the eventual return to school.

* * *

What Harry could not wrap his mind around is the emergence of his classmates. They were all familiar to him, Ron, and Hermione were his seatmates.

The yellow paint of the school bus was off putting to him but he rode it every day, affronted by the utter lack of hygiene some of the boys had, flinging boogers, and threatening to wave their dicks to traumatized females…

It was a good thing the bus driver always put a stop to them before they did any lasting damage.

He could not understand why he’d be subjected to such treatment when he already knew what they were going to learn.

The sudden knowledge did not go unnoticed, and many of them thought he was a genius, albeit a lazy one.

He could not focus in class, and could not care a thing when their resident bully decided to shove in front of his face his shiny new gadget, as if Harry could care that this person who clearly came from a wealthy family literally told him, “You’re just poor bastards. My parents bought me this and we’re planning a trip to the Himalayas this coming Spring.”

And it took all Harry’s self control not to cuss. He was surrounded with children, and his childish instinct was to punch this self centered prick to teach him a lesson or two.

But throwing papers at him and calling him a weirdo, and a freak brought up painful memories he’d rather not revisit. He stormed out of the classroom and started shouting.

After running out of steam, he got used to this for a couple of weeks and resigned himself years of torment.

* * *

In the cafeteria, Hermione sat next to him, puffed up, and tossed her hair, “Harry, why weren’t you answering the teacher’s question a while ago? You can’t do that, she’ll report you…”

“I don’t care.”

Harry just crossed his arms and avoided the bawling child that got his lunch stolen. And then he saw a familiar person.

Tom Marvolo Fucking Riddle.

He sat with a gobsmacked expression as a younger teenage version of Tom Riddle from the Chamber of Secrets sat with an entourage of girls and guys on upper classmen side of the cafeteria.

And for some unforeseen reason, the boy locked eyes at him, and smirked.

“What?” Harry uttered beyond utter disbelief.

“Am I losing my mind?”

Hermione tilted her head while Ron beside them started munching on his lunch rather loudly, crumbs falling all over.

* * *

Harry James Potter decided to stalk the older boy. An 8th Grader from the looks of it, and when Harry looked out of the window from where he was hiding, he saw the boy meet his mother and father. A carbon copy of Tom Riddle but much older looking laughed as he patted his son’s hair, and the mother, Merope with her eyes still staring at opposite directions, opened the door to the black sports car.

Harry took out his notebook and wrote.

_Day 8_

_I met the devil incarnate. He looks normal but looks can be deceiving. He’s also very rich and arrogant._

Meanwhile in the background, Hermione was looking at Harry worriedly, wondering if her friend was gay.

* * *

Harry Potter paced, wondering if all the memories in his head held any value, knowing that the boy was trouble and had to be eliminated. But in the current setting of his reality, the boy was simply trying to live a normal life.

Tom Riddle.

Harry wasn’t quite sure if he should believe his memory or believe the doctors when they said that he really had an overactive imagination.

“I’ll find out what happened,” he seethed.

* * *

Come the end of school year, Harry finally mustered the courage, bringing with him a wooden bat, and his notebook. He also brought a camera, and his courage.

He cornered Tom Riddle when he was alone after using the loo. At 6pm at night when most students would be off going home, or practicing for their club activities.

Tom smiled at him and it sent shivers up little Harry’s spine.

“Harry Potter, so nice that you’ve finally mustered the courage to speak to me,” Tom moved closer, until Harry found his back against the wall.

“H-how do you know my name?” Harry made a move for his baseball bat, and Tom held his wrist, tightly when he made a move to swing it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you… you’d get into trouble.”

Harry gasped and felt tears come at his eyes, blaming his weak constitution for his child body. “Let go.”

“Only if you promise not to harm me,” there was a teasing lilt to the teen’s voice and Harry nodded.

Tom Riddle let go and Harry rubbed his sore wrists. Before he could complain, Tom scooped him up in his arms and he flailed around.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t stop moving.”

Harry whimpered, and flailed even harder.

Then Tom Riddle bit his arm and put a hand on his mouth covering it.

“I can eat you alive too. Don’t tempt me.”

Harry growled at this and Tom Riddle just laughed heartily as they entered an empty classroom.

When Tom set down the flailing parcel, Harry immediately ran against the opposite room and took out the camera.

“I’ll report you!”

“And you think they’ll believe you? Someone with a bat out to murder an innocent student like me? Someone who’s been to the mental ward?”

“How do you know that,” Harry gasped, lowering the camera.

“I have my ways,” Tom smirked.

Harry huffed, and asked, “So… are you Voldemort? Because if you are, I won’t let you get away with this…”

“Voldemort?”

“Don’t come closer. I’ll… scream!”

“No one will hear you here.”

“Then, I’ll tell them you’re up to no good…” Harry was breathing harshly at this point and Tom Riddle laughed.

“How strange... We’ve never even met. For some unknown reason, you stalked me for months and decided I was a villain in a story I never heard...”

Harry merely nodded, “Because it’s true and you act just like Voldemort.”

Outside, the snow started falling.

“Let’s say that you’re completely right, what then?” Tom Riddle sat on the desk looking at the crazed child in wonder.

“Then… then I’ll kill you! Before you harm other people?”

“When I’m completely innocent?... I’ve had you investigated, for my own safety… and this detailed fantasy of yours, your adventures. Why, you could write a book about it, and it’ll pander to the escapists of our time but surely... you don’t believe them. A silly child’s dream. Silly magic. It doesn’t exist, Harry.”

Tom laughed and Harry blinked at Tom and seemingly broke.

“But I’m not mad, I’m just telling the truth. If it wasn’t true, then why do I remember so many things, so many details? I couldn’t have come up with something like Hogwarts... I can’t be talking like an adult when I’m still a child? I can’t…”

Tom smiled languidly, “That’s because you’re mad. I can help you… there must be a reason why you are like this. I’m studying to be a psychologist one day. I want to study the mind, and your mind is by far the most interesting case I’ve ever seen.”

Harry looked at Tom who prowled closer, “You!”

“Me?”

Harry turned on his camera and decided to take a picture of Tom. If anything he wished the urban tales of photos showing the real color of people was true. Then maybe Tom was simply a ghost of his imagination. When it came up on the screen, it came out normal.

And outside the window, the snow whorled in quiet circles as the wind grew stronger. The remaining leaves on the trees blown away.

“If you insist on painting me as a criminal then I might just become one for you. Then I can tell them that killing you was done in self defense.”

Harry trembled, “You wouldn’t...”

Tom tossed his head to the side and grinned, “Oh but I would…”

And Harry, finally realizing that he could die and that this muggle version of Tom Riddle was equally as dangerous as his magical version, he made a run for the opposite door.

Tom Riddle let him.

And Tom licked his lips, off the blood that stayed there since he bit the soft skin of the child’s arm.

* * *

And Harry Potter slunk to his room, he felt a sudden shudder as his hand hit the metal door of his room. As if zapped by thunder, or static...

“Harry James Potter, what happened to your arm?” Lily Potter gazed at her child with worry.

“I bit myself...” He said rather grumpily.

“Oh, heavens, what do I do with you? Do you want to see the doctor again? You’re scheduled for another visit.”

And Harry merely shook his head, rushing towards his mother for a well deserved hug. “Im sorry mum, it won’t happen again.” He suddenly started crying, feeling relieved that he was at least _safe_ at home and knowing that he had to be really careful when he went back to school the next year.

Because Tom Riddle hinted he was a cannibal and wasn’t opposed to murdering seven year olds like him. He suddenly wanted to transfer schools, but couldn’t for the life of him leave his two friends alone.

How do you live when you know that you’re a little crazy in the head?

* * *

A shadow appeared and the visage of a death eater with a white mask appeared, “Is there a point to this, my Lord?”

Tom Riddle was still sitting on the table of the classroom, not having acknowledged his faithful follower’s arrival.

The moon was happily sitting in the heavens, lighting up the previously dark room where he trapped the seven year old menace.

“I wished to see him struggle… the world he wishes for, one where everyone is equal is a place where either magic exists or it doesn’t. I wonder if he can survive living like this with his memories intact, or shall I fix him again…”

Severus Snape took off his mask and coughed, “My Lord, the Master of Death will not forgive you for this if he learns what happened.”

Lord Voldemort morphed into an older version of himself and sighed at the memory of his seven year old consort who was no doubt crying himself off in the freezing cold on the way home.

“He lost a bet, and he wished to be away from the Wizarding World. So I let him be, and let him think that everything is merely a dream.”

Severus put his face down remembering the argument that lasted for months, “If that is the case then, why not simply leave him be, my Lord? There are extreme matters of utmost urgency that requires your attention like that of the treaty with the giants…”

Lord Voldemort sighed, “Ever since I regained my humanity, it does not mean I am incapable of punishing you, Severus. And since when did I require permission to see my consort? We are married through magic…”

Severus muttered, “He’s seven, my Lord…”

“Be that as it may, I’m only here to watch over him, as his magical core rests. Once he’s finished repairing the core, then I will remove the curse I cast on him. This is also his punishment for misbehaving. The last time, he harvested souls of my followers and caused a disaster that took decades to repair. Now, let’s return to the manor… I’ve had my fill of fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wondered what would happen if you thought your memories were false. It's a light story with a dark theme because there are many people in the world with recollections of things, or "imaginations" that society has often questioned the authenticity of if it was real or merely a trick of the mind. And the first course of action is to refer them to a doctor who would often dub you with a disability and others around you would be quick to call you crazy or mad.


End file.
